Say My Name and The Duality of Cherry Blossoms
by jazminasi
Summary: One light comes on, another ceases in an endless rhythm. This rhythm the Sun Goddess knows well. Two part; Ammy/Waka and Kurou/Chibi introspective. Heavy spoilers for both Okami and Okamiden.
1. Say My Name

I.

The tall sky-scrapers illuminate the lake like a thousand fireflies are flitting above the surface. One light comes on, another ceases in an endless rhythm. Amaterasu knows this rhythm well, having cycled through the dark and enlightened periods of the world. But she does not wish to believe it, that all these lights she holds precious must one day fall into darkness, out of her reach.

II.

Before the sky-scrapers and traveling and the smell of fear and atomic dust, there was just an empty heaven populated by herself and her companion, Waka. Empty, and yet fuller than anything she could ever have remembered. Summer-lit melodies, spars in the dusty twilight, sake by starlight, a growing belly. Her duty calls, heaven cannot be empty forever.

The months passed like days.

Chibi is born in the early morning in Spring, when the sun had just risen and the moon just fallen. The prophet, having been by her side all night, now sleeps, his head resting against hers with the golden locks pouring like sunlight over mother and child.

Amaterasu cannot sleep, she is much too proud and happy. Yet, something claws at her heart, an anxiety that gnaws on every beat she feels from her sleeping bundle of a child.

Her suspicions are confirmed when Waka wakes and does not look at her, cannot look at her, and leaves the room in a hurried pace.

Amaterasu cannot sleep, for despair claims her dreams.

III.

They debate constantly throughout the starless nights. Chibi sleeps, content, unknowing. And yet Amaterasu knows, knows that Waka's visions are correct and she must leave her children to the demons.

And there is nothing she can do. And there is nothing he can heaven is so full of nothing that she feels as if it would erupt, and so they silence their arguments.

What must be done, must be done. They will leave next Spring, Chibi and the other child.

IV.

Kurou is born in the Fall, within the remnants of an old Lunar laboratory that Waka constructed. The child is nearly ten, but still sleeps within the prophet's arms like a baby.

She asks him, 'Why is his name Kurou?'

He responds, 'It comes from the bird whose feathers only illuminate when the sun is in its path.

Or, perhaps, something else.'

Amaterasu cocks her head and snorts. 'Make up your mind, you silly prophet.' She butts her head against his legs, softly so as not to disturb the sleeping Kurou. Waka laughs and shoos her away. 'Cherie, let this prophet walk, will you?'

They both ignore the implications.

V.

Chibi sometimes leaves his futon and travels into Kurou's room, usually when Amaterasu and Waka are outside and talking in their usual hushed tones. The boy sleeps all day. Chibi doesn't know why; he's too small to understand 'metabolism' or 'dna structure', the jumble of unknown words the prophet sometimes mutters over his papers.

Chibi places his head upon the small boy's chest to listen for a heartbeat, like how his mother places her head upon his chest.

When he hears the steady heartbeat, his tail wags and he licks the boy's cheek. 'Hello friend, what is your name? Your name?'

VI.

Spring comes and the pair leave separately; Chibi, like a dream, is drawn upon the Earth in earthy inktones and Kurou departs within a small rocket, large enough for a few necessities: a flute, a large, red scarf to keep him warm, and a kiss upon the brow. Good night.

They meet again within the city; hello, friend, what is your name?

They travel and camp out at Kurou's secret hideaway, a tall rock precipice above Sei-An city. The lights blink below them like a sea of fireflies, and their light shimmers on them like how the word forever gleams on love.

They have ricecakes, clumsily made but still quite good, and Kurou tells ghost stories.

'Did you hear about the story of the ghost girl and the lover who murders her? Because she has his true name, she is bound to his soul forever and haunts him out of anger.'

Kurou pauses, then adds,

'I don't believe it, though. Names don't have that kind of power, they're just a bunch of katakana and kanji.'

They continue on until they fall asleep, when the moon is high in the sky. Sometimes, Kurou thinks, Chibi understands him more than he thinks possible, as if he knows each thought that beats through his heart.

VII.

Kurou is glad for his scarf. The metal floor is so cold. It's probably why his body is so cold. It's why his fingers are numb, why his legs are like stone. Why all he can see around him is red. The metal is cold.

Yet, he is warm. The scarf is a comforting embrace. He wonders who made it, who hand-stiched it and told him that it was his, who knew that one day he would be this terribly cold.

Chibi places his head upon the boy's heart, and stays long after Kurou is asleep. Will he be asleep all day again? Will there be no more rice cakes, and flutes, and sparring within the dusty twilight?

He moves slowly to lick his cheek. 'Oh friend, oh dear friend, why won't you answer me when I call your name?

I do not want your soul. I do not want to cause you pain. I just want to understand you.'

And all the names Chibi can muster-friend, companion, beloved, _Kurou please Kurou_!-cannot break the ghosts that ravage their hearts.

Chibi knows that Forever does not gleam anymore.

VIII

'Silly little Chibi. You have my soul. It is bound to you forever.'


	2. Duality of Cherry Blossoms, Pt I

Hey everyone! Wow, with all of my tests and just all-around busy schedule I had almost completely forgotten about my poor story. But, I have updated! Hurray! So, please enjoy. I hope to update more quickly next time. Also, please excuse the earlier update as I should really edit before hitting the enter button. Le sigh.

* * *

**The Duality of Cherry Blossoms, Part I**

Many people asked Waka how he had learned the strange, musical language he sometimes spoke. He'd say it was one of the first ways he learned of his talent for visions and that he let the Fates simply imbue the charm unto the words.

That wasn't entirely true. He saw cherry blossoms first.

* * *

Waka was the seventh son of a seventh son of a poor warrior. When he was four, he was sold away to the Capitol. He knew, even at that young of an age, that the Capitol wasn't a very good place to go. The men of the Capitol bartered regularly among the children, hands clasping heads and pinching cheeks. Observantly marking features like one collecting an inventory. Those who went didn't come back.

Despite popular belief, few of the Moon Tribe had gold hair. Most hair was ashen or gray, with gold being mainly reserved for members of the aristocracy or those blessed with a miracle genetic combination.

Waka was picked out almost immediately. Gold is gold, hair or metal.

* * *

So, the night before the men of the Capitol were to make their collections, Waka fled his family home with his practice _bokken_. He looked back only once when he reached the gate. The silhouette of his massive, or at least massive to his young memories, father in the doorway. What he said was the only snippets of memory left of the man.

"Worthless," the silhouette growled.

Waka's eyes narrowed. They shone blade-silver in the light of the Earth. "So you say," he retorted, "but I will be richer than you can ever hope. I have a divine treasure." He turned and left. Waka never returned again.

* * *

Cherry blossoms. That was where he put all his hope.

Most children didn't flee like he had. Where was there to go? Either it was into the arms of the Capitol or into the arms of the Yokai.

But Waka laughed at such a fate. Cherry blossoms. They were extinct on the moon. The artificial gardens were able to produce most flowers and vegetables perfectly, but they could never recreate the springtime breeze of sakura. Just a bushel of the branches was enough to keep one fed for a hundred years.

And in his future, Waka saw countless raindrops of the rich, pink flowers dance around him.

* * *

Waka's gift of prophecy both saved him and cursed him. He survived the mountains only through his ability to evade the demons a minute or two before their strikes. Cunning served him well when his strength could not. He hadn't counted the years but there were many where he survived on little more than the bounties of demons and petty thefts of merchants.

So, it didn't surprise him what happened when he passed a village after making it through the mountains.

A child. A child, they whispered. The sudden disappearance of demons around the village was met not with gratitude but apprehension. Something that can strike down a demon so quickly could only be a demon himself. They called him a Crow. Omens were the only things that followed his crimson path.

Waka enjoyed the name greatly. It made traveling very easy when the paths were clear.


End file.
